


spit it out

by khirimochi (NekoAisu)



Series: FFXIVWrite 2020 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awkwardness, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Gen, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Post-Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, Post-Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal, discussions of character death, discussions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:00:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoAisu/pseuds/khirimochi
Summary: He remembers that in his copy of Stormblood, the Warrior of Light was not yet blind. He wonders how that come to pass, in this odd new timeline.He wonders who caused it.
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Original Character(s), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Warrior of Light, G’raha Tia | Crystal Exarch & Estinien Wyrmblood, Warrior of Light & Estinien Wyrmblood
Series: FFXIVWrite 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906210
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	spit it out

**Author's Note:**

> FFXIVWrite Prompt 5: Matter of Fact

G’raha Tia would like to walk back into the Tower and never come back out, please and thank you. He has no want to be stared down by someone who has an entire fulm on him (easily!) while awkwardly picking at tea and little finger sandwiches because of ill-advised “introductions.”

Fahmi smiles, piling a small mountain of snacks onto his plate, and says, “Estinien, this is G’raha. I think y’ already know who he is, yes?”

“The one who slept in that Allagan monstrosity, was it?”

“That’s the one,” he replies, inhaling no fewer than three miniature cakes at once, “and now that he’s free, I wanted you two to meet. It… there is something I feel you both should know.”

Estinien is surprisingly civil when Fahmi explains the circumstances of his stint on the First up until the point where he gestures to G’raha and says, “The Exarch was unable to leave the First as a separate being, but we were able to place his soul into G’raha’s body. They are… the same person, in an odd way? I don’ have the words.” 

“So  _ he’s  _ the reason you fell unconscious?”

“I—no! Th’ damage was done ‘fore that,” Fahmi says faster than he should. He shoves a sandwich in his mouth as if to stop any further comments. 

He crosses his arms, intimidating even in worn travel clothes, and asks, “What do you think I am to do with this knowledge?”

Fahmi blinks. G’raha mirrors him. 

What… are they supposed to do with that, indeed? He hadn’t realized that the Call had been so perilous for any of them. He knew from the Scions that it  _ hurt,  _ but he had been informed that the blinding had been the result of Elidibus and not  _ him.  _ He had thought that Fahmi had simply not been strong enough at that time.

He had believed himself guiltless for the bandages wrapped tightly over his eyes. 

(He had believed the greatest of his sins to be indulgence—that of a dream realized, where the Warrior of Light does not die.)

“I wanted you to know, is all,” Fahmi says, ears folding back. “Aym’ric said you were upset about it, still. ‘M doin’ alright. It isn’ somethin’ I need y’to worry about.” His accent spills back into his words with clear-cut slurring, old memories and new ones making it inconsistent as his mood. He pokes at his food, only half consumed, and excuses himself. 

G’raha wants to rise to follow, but stays put. He has questions that need answering. 

He does his best to enact the same tone he used as Exarch when he asks, “May I impose upon you to recount what happened in the Dark? He has not been so forthcoming on any events past a sanitized retelling.”

The formality and maturity sits heavy on his tongue, an uneven weight granted by a soul that is and is not his, like he had taken to swallowing lead. He wants to spit it out, but knows it will stay. 

He is G’raha Tia just as he is the Crystal Exarch. Both voices (both faces, both names, both lives) are simultaneously his. That means the mistakes of one rest squarely atop his shoulders as if a mantle made of dread. 

He does not wish to face them.

“Aye,” Estinien says, voice roughened by smoke and the speech of dragons. “He’s not likely to have told you truths about it, the daft sod. I will not be so kind as to spare your feelings.”

He pauses, waiting for something he has not yet explained. He heaves a great sigh, shaking his head and messing up his hair further. Had G’raha a spare tie with which to give him, he would without question. He cannot imagine it is easy to manage nearly two fulms of white hair. 

“You know of what happened in the Dark. The Warrior of Light faced an Ascian parading as Zenos yae Galvus and was bested in combat. He has the scars to show for it.”

G’raha thinks of the one streaking in silver and gold around his neck (“Odin,” was all he said when asked) and tries not to recoil in reflexive pain. He asks, anxiety simmering in his stomach, “So the ones on his face are…?”

“From the Ascian,” Estinien confirms, nodding. “He’s still only mortal like the rest of us. Magic runs out same as morale. He arrived in time to save allies, but was caught unawares by your Call and failed to defend himself.”

“But my intention was—“

“To save him,” Estinien interrupts, sounding more tired than he should. “I know. We’ve all had to at one point or another.”

They share a look and somehow it eases the suffocating crush of his guilt. “Thank you,” he says, and hopes the genuine gratitude he feels can be heard in every syllable.

Estinien grumbles, “Don’t thank me for it. The Lord Commander was beside himself for  _ months  _ and all Fahmi did was hop right back into danger, with or without his sight. Hells know how much he needed the knock of sense you gave him.”

G’raha frowns, brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“He said something about memories. I assumed that was your doing.”

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head with a wry smile, “no, it wasn’t. That honor goes to a man by the name of Hades. He was someone who clung to false fact just to find hope. It… well, he certainly helped him, whether he intended to or not.”

“So he was an enemy.”

He nods. “An Ascian.”

“And he… helped?” Estinien asks, doubt coloring his tone. 

“As a matter of fact, he did. Would you like to hear the tale? I was a bard, once upon a time.”

“If you can keep the musical interludes to a minimum, I can abide.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Scream with me on twt i promise i dont bite  
> Twitter [@khirimochi](https://twitter.com/khirimochi) OR [@TheHolyBody (NSFW)](https://twitter.com/TheHolyBody)  
> Tunglr @[Main](https://kiriami.tumblr.com) OR @[FFXIV Imagines](https://ffxivimagines.tumblr.com)


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